


Written in the Stars

by Nothing_is_Real



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, Inspired by The Outsiders, Love at First Sight, M/M, Paul is not necessarily evil for the first time, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sad Ending, but you still will hate him, idk why i wrote this tbh, people die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-14 01:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_is_Real/pseuds/Nothing_is_Real
Summary: This is in an Alternate Universe where Freddie Mercury, a poor boy living on the east side of town, meets John Deacon, whose life is just so different from his.Will they be able to cope with the long-running feuds between the two gangs as well as a bunch of homophobics and live on with their life?Loosely based on Romeo and Juliet and The Outsiders.





	1. Chapter 1

There was nothing like a Sunday morning in the city, as the sun rose slowly at the edge of the horizon. Brian May was out for a walk. The warmthness of the sun felt gentle on his heavy skin, and the clear, cool air was just so incredibly refreshing to his lungs.  
But as he turned the corner, he noticed something that immediately just clashed with all his blossoming energy.  
Paul Prenter.  
The presence of this person just made him cringe in disgust. It was a long-running grudge between them that started ever since Paul threw a pencil at his head when they were in primary school. His cousin, Freddie, had became angry and got into a fight with Paul, in which both of them got hurt pretty badly.  
Actually, perhaps the grudge had started way before that—before they were even born. Brian knew. It was just about being born to different… gangs, you could say. On the west bank of the city lived all the rich kids, with money and cars—kids like Paul. They called them the Socs. Yet on the east bank were all the “dregs of society,” otherwise known as the Greasers.  
Brian remembered the time when he stood by the river that divided the city and watched the other side, where buildings and mansions rose up. Yet behind him were the lines of old tenements that stretched for miles and miles. Over the years, he had learned not to envy the Socs. But there was always this gap of between the two worlds—a gap that just led to resentment. Whilst the Socs picked on them, they found trouble with them as well. And Brian, very much unlike his cousin Freddie and his best friend Roger, was just one of the weak ones that was always easily taken down in fights, and therefore avoided brawling at all costs.  
His stomach sank when he saw Paul and his two friends approach.  
“Hello, May,” he said, in a dangerously nice voice, “I’m going to be nice and do you a favor, May. You need a haircut?”  
Brian backed off. “No, thank you.”  
“Too bad.” In the next second, someone had him down on the ground. His hands were twisted behind his head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paul flashing a pocket knife. He tried to struggle, but all his energy had drained.  
“Look at all those curls. You really do need a haircut, bro. How about we start that haircut right below your ear?”  
Brian again failed in his attempt to wriggle loose. He could feel that blade on his skin—icy cold, then searing hot. Now he was down to his last resort. He opened his mouth and screamed for help. A hand was immediately cupped around his mouth and muffled his yells, and he proceeded to spit into the hand.  
Soon after, however, the hands that were on him let go suddenly and he fell to the ground, gasping. There were sounds of punching and kicking and yelping, and then he saw Paul and his friends scuttering away like a wounded hound.  
A pair of bright blue eyes hovered above him. “Brian? Are you alright?”  
Brian coughed and sat up. “Yeah,” he replied, “Thank you, Roger.”  
His blonde friend grinned. He may seem small, but his fighting skills were quite exceptional—that he could take down three Socs single-handedly (and especially when the three included Paul). “No problem. That Prenter is such a nuisance. And all the Socs, too.” He pushed his golden locks out of his eyes and continued, “Oh, by the way, have you seen Freddie lately? He hasn’t been coming to class these few days. Is he okay?”  
The mention of his cousin made Brian sigh. They lived in the same building, but he hadn’t seen him around a lot for the past week. “Well, he’s apparently hiding. He won’t talk to me, either. I tried knocking on his door, but he wouldn’t answer.”  
Roger kicked away a pebble on the ground. “There’s something wrong. Maybe he’s not always the flamboyant person he acts like in front of others—but he’s definitely not someone who’d hide. Do you know why he’s doing so?”  
“If I knew, I should be happy to tell you. But I don’t,” Brian said gloomily.  
Roger, however, had spotted his friend’s figure walking this way. “Here he comes! Let’s talk to him. Maybe now we can find out.”  
Brian didn’t know if that’s the best idea. Perhaps his cousin just wanted some time alone. But Roger had already taken off, a little over-excitedly— “Hullo, Fred!”  
Freddie seemed startled by his voice. He looked around as if he was just woken up from a long dream. He gazed at Roger for a few seconds, and then fixed his eyes on the sky. “Is it so early in the morning?”  
“Well, it’s six thirty,” said Roger.  
A prolonged sigh escaped his lips. “Good God… time drags on so slowly.”  
There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Brian spoke up. “And what is it that makes your time so slow?”  
“I have lost what can speed it up.”  
Roger rolled his eyes. “You guys can stop being so poetic. Freddie, what’s up with you lately?”  
Brian couldn’t help but notice the look on Freddie’s face. He seemed troubled, uneasy, even afraid. “What is it, Freddie?”  
“I—” Freddie started, but immediately shook his head, “You don’t need to know.”  
“Freddie,” Brian said sternly, “You’ve got to tell us. We can help.”  
His dark-haired cousin looked down at his feet. “Fine. But you have to promise me not to tell anyone else.”  
“Definitely,” Brian quickly raised two fingers.  
Roger nodded simultaneously. “I shall go to hell if I do.”  
Freddie took a deep breathe. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll tell you… I—I think I might be… gay.”  
The silenced that followed was deafening. No one dared to disturb it until Roger finally sputtered out, after a long while— “What’s wrong with being gay? I’ve always been gay!”  
“Roger,” Brian scolded, hitting the blonde over his head. Had he been out drinking last night again?  
Now, Brian wasn’t a homophobic like a lot of others were, but it still took him a few moments to absorb that information.  
“I understand if you d-don’t want to be m-my friend anymore,” Freddie said, stammering, “I know i-it’s horrible—”  
“What are you talking about, Freddie?” Brian put a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll always be your friend, no matter what. Plus, there’s nothing wrong about being gay.”  
“Exactly,” Roger chimed in, “ ’Zat why you’ve been hiding us, Fred? C’mon, you know you should do better.”  
“I’m curious, though,” said Brian, “What happened that made you think you’re gay?”  
Freddie looked uncomfortable. “Well… I was at this gay bar a few nights ago… and I think I just feel more… free around guys. I don’t know. I just like it better. I’m pretty sure, though… ” His voice trailed off, and his hands were shaking as he spoke. Brian thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown. “Calm down, Freddie. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.”  
“Well, I can take it,” Freddie said slowly, “But… I don’t know if Mary can.”  
“Oh, God.” Brian almost forgot.  
“How am I supposed to explain all this to her?” whispered Freddie. He knew that Mary loved him with all her heart, but it may not be the same with him.  
Roger rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Freddie, just tell her. If she truly loves you, she’d understand.”  
Brian nodded. “Roger’s right. You got to be brave, Freddie.”  
“Oh, and,” said Roger, “I almost forgot. The school dance is tonight. Can you come with us, Fred?”  
Freddie hesitated, clearly not in the mood for dances. “Well—”  
“Please?”  
“Fine. But only under the conditions that you buy me chocolate afterwards, darling.”  
“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is the first fanfic I’ve ever wrote so it may be kind of dumb. Well, I tried. Thank you for reading this chapter. Tell me what you think in the comments! Thx. X.


	2. Chapter 2

John Deacon had always loved his cousin. This cousin was his only friend that accompanied him through his childhood years as he lived lonelily in that house his parents left him on the west side of the city. And the cousin, despite being only three years his senior, had always taken care of him.   
The only thing that bothered him was, sometimes his cousin would come home all bruised up. When he asked him what it was, his cousin would always tell him, “something fell on me,” or “I tripped.”  
And today, he turned up at the doorstep with an ugly, purple bruise on his right arm.   
“You really need to watch out, Paul,” said John, as he handed him an ice pack.  
Paul Prenter leaned back in his chair. “Vending machine accident,” he grumbled, “Not in my area of control.”  
He never told John that all those wounds came from fighting with the Greasers. John disliked violence, and from what he observed, he’d always exhibited some level of friendliness towards the East scrubs. He didn’t know why, but the boy was quite empathetic to all people ever since he was young.   
Paul didn’t want to see a sad John when the illusion breaks. He wanted to remain as the cousin whom could just take care of John forever, and whom John loved and admired forever.  
His friends had all told him, “You know that he’d find out sooner or later, don’t you?”  
Paul always replied. “I’ll keep it a secret as long as it can remain a secret.”   
Sometimes he’d thought of telling John, too, but he always dismissed that notion quickly. He told himself, John didn’t need to know, nor would he want to know. Period.  
“Oh, um,” John said suddenly, startling Paul from his thoughts, “You know how the school dance is tonight?”  
“Mhm,” Paul replied, “You want to go?” John nodded. “That’s quite interesting. You’re never a party person, John.”  
John’s face turned a lovely shade of pink. “I mean... Veronica’s going,” he whispered in a barely audible voice.   
Paul immediately understood. “So you’re going to hang out with her and do things?”  
“No! … I-I’m going to hang out with her, not… do things,” John’s cheek was now as red as a tomato.   
Paul laughed. “Y’know, I’m perfectly fine with you and Veronica. To be honest… you’ve known each other since you were young. I can see that the you two fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Yes, of course you can go to the dance. Just don’t come back too late”   
“Are you not going, Paul?” John looked at him curiously.  
“If you want me to go, I sure will.”  
“Well… ” said John. He wasn’t that sure.  
Paul, being a senior, already knew that school dances were often quite boring, because, well, it’s a school dance. “I’m fine if you go alone. Just… try to stay out of trouble, alright?”   
John nodded, smiling.

Dusk was falling when Roger rode out on his bike to find Brian and Freddie, rolling upon the jagged cobblestone streets. The west bank of the city often seemed like a ghost town in the evening, especially on Sundays. No one was there; it was completely quiet. He enjoyed the dead silence as he rode among the old, crumbling apartments, and turned the corner to reach the one where Brian and Freddie lived.   
The pair of cousins were already out the door. Freddie, as usual, was dressed in an overly-flashy way. Roger always wondered where he mustered up all this money to buy this clothing. Brian, although just wearing simple, clean clothes, hardly stood in contrast to his cousin, due to his hair.  
Without a single word, they hopped onto their bikes and joined Roger as he pedaled down the street towards the bridge that connected the two banks.   
They reached the school pretty quickly, and they parked their bikes under an old oak tree, and entered the gymnasium. Music was blasting from the speakers, and they could see a group of crazy teenagers in the middle of the gym, jumping and screaming and dancing and having fun.  
Roger flashed the others a grin. “Y’all ready?”  
“Mhm,” Brian mumbled in reply.  
Within the next second, Roger had dived into the horde, and after a few moments he reappeared. “C’mon, you guys, join us!”  
Brian sighed. He wasn’t that much of a dancer, but he knew there was no way to decline. He was about to follow, but noticed that Freddie was still standing there without the intention of moving. “Freddie?”  
Freddie had quite an unreadable expression on his face. “Here, you guys go, I’ll just hang around here.”  
“No, Fred, we must have you dance,” said Roger, his eyes twinkling with excitement.  
Freddie shook his head. “I’m really not in the mood for dancing.”  
“Man, stop fussing over the fact that you’re gay. We already told you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. We’re here to have a good time. Come on, let’s dance!”  
He succeeded in dragging Freddie into the dance, and then he began horsing off with some girls. Brian and Freddie looked at each other resignedly as he watched their blonde friend disappear into the crowd.  
“I’m going to get a drink,” he told Brian, who nodded.   
He walked straight to the tables, but was stopped by a familiar female voice calling his name. “Freddie!”  
Shoot. He knew who it was. Freddie took a deep breath and turned around. “Hello, Mary,” he said, smiling weakly.  
Mary had a wide beam spread on her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s so nice seeing you here, Freddie. I mean, I—I haven’t seen you at school for the last few days. I asked Brian. He says you just lock yourself in the apartment all day… is everything okay?”   
Freddie gazed into Mary’s worried eyes. He honestly didn’t know if he should say it or not. But finally he decided to do it.  
“Mary,” he said, his tone serious, “I need to tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complications in the plot are building up, as you can see. Tell me what you think! Thx. X.


	3. Chapter 3

Freddie paced back and forth behind the gym, tired and weak. All the lemonade he had—or whatever it was that he chugged down his throat in the past thirty minutes—was making him feel dazed.  
He’d done it. He told Mary.   
Her reaction wasn’t as bad as he expected. She remained calm and collected, but Freddie could see it—the sadness and shock in her eyes. He hated to make people feel bad, especially when he didn’t know how he should comfort them after doing so. He couldn’t count how many times he’d said sorry, nor could he recall how many times Mary told him that it was fine, but he still felt like a horrible, useless human being who could do nothing but hurt others.  
His eyelids were heavy and his shirt was stained with sweat and spilt lemonade. He leaned against the wall, and looked up to the sky, hoping to escape reality for just a moment. A bright full moon shone in the night. He tried to enjoy the soft moonlight—it was the only thing that kept him company at the moment.   
That was, until he heard a loud crash from nearby.  
The sound knocked Freddie back to his senses. Startled, he pricked up his ears and listened. Another crashing sound boomed out, followed by a fit of hysterical laughing.  
Freddie traced the sound all the way around the gym, and found the source of the noise next to the trash cans. He saw a couple of tall Greaser boys standing there, bawling over in laughter. On the ground in front of them was a long-haired boy, presumably a Soc. The boy was covering his face with his arms, and there was blood on his hands.  
One of the Greasers pulled the boy up. “Stop crying and get up, boy! Take it like a man!” He kicked the boy in his stomach, causing him to double over in pain.  
Freddie gritted his teeth. He’d never felt good about the Socs, but the sight before him was terrible. The boy probably did nothing wrong anyways—it’s just a thing about the feud. People beat each other up for no reason. He picked up a stick and chucked it at one of the Greaser boys.   
The Greaser got hit, hard, on his calf. He lost balance and fell, cursing. Freddie charged forwards, but was stopped by the other Greaser.  
“What are you doing?” he hissed, “You’re one of us!”  
Freddie glared at him. “What reason do you have to beat him up?”  
The Greaser who got hit had picked himself up by now. “Go away, boy,” he growled, “Or we’ll beat you up too.”  
Freddie grinned. He was a pretty good boxer, in fact. As of his knowledge, there were only a few Socs who could possibly be his match, and he highly suspected that those two Greasers couldn’t be that good, if they were beating up a helpless boy like the one on the ground right there.  
And he was right. It took him merely a few minutes to get rid of the two Greasers. After they went scurrying away, he turned back to the boy, who was on the ground, his hands still covering his face.   
He knelt down and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy flinched away, but he stopped the motion and rubbed his back, like he was comforting a young child. “It’s okay, darling. They’re gone. You’re safe.”  
The boy finally moved his arms away from his face to reveal a bleeding nose and a pair of terrified hazel eyes.   
His stomach churned as he looked into the boy’s features. And he felt something he’d never felt before.   
“Here,” he said, handing the boy a handkerchief for him to wipe off his blood.   
“What is your name?”  
The boy hesitated. “John Deacon.”  
Freddie froze. He knew that name. Of course—Paul Prenter’s cousin. There was trouble in the air. He could almost smell it.   
He got up. “I—I have to go,” he said, “I’ll see you around.” And he turned to walk away, leaving a confused John behind.  
He returned to the gym as quickly as possible, trying to find his friends. He caught sight of Brian sitting in a corner, dozing off.   
“Brian, hey, Brian,” he tapped his cousin’s shoulder, wondering how on earth the boy could possibly fall asleep when the music was this loud.  
Brian’s eyes shot open. “What time is it?” he mumbled.   
“Like, midnight,” said Freddie, checking the old watch he was wearing.   
“We better go then. We’ve got school tomorrow,” Brian jumped up. “Where’s Roger?”  
“No idea. Probably off with a girl somewhere.”  
… And Roger immediately appeared after he finished his sentence. “I know y’all don’t want to stay late. I kept track of the time.”  
Brian smiled, rolling his eyes. “That’s like… the first time you’ve ever been thoughtful, Roger.”  
“Oh, shut up,” Roger peered at Freddie, who was staring off into space pensively. “Fred? Are you alright?”  
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Can we go now?”

Freddie stayed up all night. He was weak and exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. The problem, now, was no longer really about Mary—although he still felt bad about this whole thing. But instead, he kept thinking about John, as he stared into the empty darkness for hours and hours. Gradually he began to lose track of time and just spent the restless night in a daze.   
John. John Deacon. That name was quite dangerous, especially for him. Yet he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he could just see John’s figure.   
A sigh escaped his lips. He’d only seen John once in person. He knew well that he was his enemy. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Oh, was he so ill-fated?  
He noticed that the sky outside begin to lighten up. Climbing off his bed, he made his way to the barred window and watched the sunrise. His limbs were numb. He ached to get out of here, but he had no energy.   
Then he heard someone knocking on the door. He pulled himself away from the window to open the door, to reveal Brian standing there.  
Freddie knew his intention. “For God’s sake, darling, can’t you let me just miss one day of school?” he grumbled.  
“You’ve already missed a week by locking yourself in there,” Brian snapped, rolling his eyes, “Now get dressed and come on.”  
Freddie groaned, but still he got himself ready and set off to school on his bike with Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... they finally meet. Thank you so much for reading this chapter. Pls tell me what you think in the comments! Thx. X.


	4. Chapter 4

When the bell rang, signifying the end of second period and the beginning of lunch, Freddie immediately jumped up from his seat and walked out of the classroom.   
He decided not to go to the cafeteria to get food. He needed some rest. Perhaps, going into the boy’s locker room and dozing off for half an hour or so would be a good idea.   
Completely lost in his thoughts, he had no awareness of his surroundings until he bumped into someone on his way, and caused that person to drop all his books.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, helping that person pick up his things.   
“I-it’s okay,” the person’s voice said.  
Freddie stopped dead in his movements. He had not yet heard that voice speak a hundred words, but he could already recognize it. He looked up to see—John Deacon.  
He could feel his heartbeat accelerate. Quickly, he handed John his book, smiled politely, and was ready to run off. But a hand grabbed on to his sleeve.   
John turned to face him and looked him directly in his eye. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for yesterday.”  
“No problem,” he replied.  
His hands were shaking slightly. What was this feeling that was eating away at him? He looked back at John. Every single one of his movements and every word that came out of his mouth just strengthened this feeling.  
“Can you come with me to lunch, please?” John asked.  
Freddie was speechless for a few seconds. “Uh—sure,” he finally said.  
And as he walked down the hallways to the cafeteria with John, he began to question his sanity. What was he doing here with Paul’s cousin? He wanted to say no to this ridiculous situation, but there was just this annoying gravitational pull that kept him where he was.  
“Oh, um,” John’s voice knocked him out of his thoughts.  
“Yes, darling?”  
“I still don’t know your name.”  
“I’m Freddie. Freddie Mercury.”   
John smiled shyly. “That’s a beautiful name.”  
“Do you think so?”  
“It’s very… fantastical, if you know what I mean.”  
They bought their lunch and decided to go somewhere private, because it would certainly cause drama if someone saw a Soc with a Greaser. They quickly agreed to go out to the fields.  
Freddie didn’t really like to be with only one person at a time, and he kept telling himself that he probably shouldn’t be hanging out with a Soc. Nevertheless, he went with John.   
They sat down on the soft grass, under the bright, shining sun. Freddie let his thoughts drop, because he was actually enjoying this.  
“Why?” John asked him suddenly.  
“Why what?”  
“Why did you help me last night?” said he, “Aren’t you… a Greaser?”  
Freddie peered at John’s eyes, those hazel eyes that outshone the sun. His cheek was a little flushed, his wavy hair neatly hanging over his shoulders. Everything was just so perfect. “Uh—I just thought—well—” he was suddenly at a loss of words.   
John smiled, and Freddie had lost all self-control. He practically leapt onto John, closed his hands around his shoulder, and kissed him.  
John was clearly startled at first, and completely not ready, but he quickly returned the kiss, moving his lips against Freddie’s. Freddie tried hard to hold himself together so that the kiss seemed innocent enough, but he failed miserably.   
After a long time, he broke the kiss. They fell apart onto the grass, both gasping for air. Freddie turned his head to look at John, who looked back, blushing.   
He could feel a voice in his brain telling him that this was incredibly wrong. Not only gay, but he was kissing a Soc. What in the name of sanity?  
They grinned at each other knowingly. “Tonight?” he asked.  
“Okay,” said John.   
Little did they know, however, that a pair of glaring eyes were watching them from behind the building.

An hour later.  
John was sitting in English class, the textbook open on his desk and a pencil in his hand. But his mind was wandering off.   
He didn’t know what to feel about what happened during lunch. Joy? Surprise? Well, maybe both.   
When Freddie saved him from the two Greasers, he’d already felt different from him. Not only was he grateful, but he liked him. He didn’t really believe “love at first sight,” but now he was thinking that perhaps that was what happened to him.   
“Mr. Deacon?”  
He snapped out of his thoughts and saw his English teacher standing before him. “Um… Mr. Beach?”  
“I asked you a question,” said Mr. Jim Beach.  
A few other kids sitting next to him snickered. John flushed a little. “I’m sorry.”  
“Now would you please answer, what do you think ‘Wherefore art thou Romeo’ means?”  
John stared down at the script of Act 2, Scene 2 of Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare wasn’t particularly his specialty, but he knew pretty well that “art” was the archaic form of “are,” “thou” the archaic form of “you.” And since “therefore” meant “so,” wouldn’t “wherefore” mean…   
“Why are you Romeo?” he guessed.  
“Yes. In other words, Juliet is asking, ‘why are you a Montague,’ questioning why her lover must be from a family that was her enemy.”  
The mention of “lover” took John’s brain to Freddie again. As he glanced over the words on the script again, he himself questioned why his lover must live the east side of town, the side he was supposed to despise.   
Wherefore art thou Freddie?  
Why are you a Greaser?


	5. Chapter 5

It took John some effort to sneak out of the house at night and to meet up with Freddie. Paul was not a heavy sleeper, and he had to make sure he made absolutely no sound so that he would wake Paul up.  
He succeeded in tiptoeing down the stairs and making his way out of the front door. Then he walked through the lawn towards the gate. The gate made a creaking noise when he attempted to open it. He froze, listening for sounds from inside the house. When he heard none, he quietly slipped out and latched up the gate, and began his way towards the bridge.  
The bright moonlight draped over him like a cloak as he ran through the streets, lost in his thoughts.   
This was all happening so quickly that he wasn’t sure if it was all real. Too rash. Too sudden. Especially when he thought twice about it—and when he considered another person.  
Veronica.  
He’d always thought he loved Veronica with all his heart and soul. But now that he had met Freddie, it was as if he had never felt love until now. He was, however, almost sure that Veronica loved him back. And that was problematic. Should he tell her, or should he keep it away from her?  
He reached the bridge and saw that Freddie was already standing there. When he heard John’s footsteps, he looked up and smiled.  
They embraced each other tightly. John felt his face pressed against Freddie’s left cheek. Freddie’s grip against him was so hard that he felt that he was going to suffocate from so much cherishing.   
They finally pulled apart after forever (by forever I mean about six minutes; get it?). There was just complete silence for the next few moments, then Freddie spoke.  
“So, who’s going to start?”  
John grinned. “You.”  
Freddie rolled his eyes playfully. “Fine.”  
And then his tone grew serious. He took John’s hands and placed it at his heart, and looked him right in the eye.  
“John Deacon, I love you.”  
John had been expecting that sentence, but his heart still skipped a beat as he heard those words. He opened his mouth, and in a firm voice, returned,  
“Freddie Mercury, I love you.”  
It was as if heaven was smiling upon them as they leaned into a kiss.   
“I wish I could take that sentence back,” said John, when they finally broke the kiss.  
“What? Why would you that?”  
“So I can say it again for the first time.”  
Freddie chuckled, snaking his arms around John’s waist. “Oh, John, don’t make me start.”  
“I’d be perfectly fine if you do.”  
“No… we’re not doing this tonight. Maybe another day.”

The next day.   
“Brian, are you listening?” Roger’s voice echoed out next to his ear.  
Brian looked up from his book. “Sorry—what?”  
The blonde rolled his eyes. Good God. He was such a workaholic.   
Brian was renowned at school for getting good grades. Every semester, when the report cards were mailed back, it was always all A’s and A+’s. Not a single variation.  
He wanted to maintain those grades, get a scholarship to college, and then he would spread his wings and fly away. Roger could feel it—Brian absolutely loathed being in this place. He wanted to get out of here, and when he does, he would pretend that he had never been here before.   
Because, to be honest, who wanted to be a Greaser?   
“As I was saying,” he said, “Let’s go out for a drink tonight.”  
Brian eyed him like he was crazy. “Do you even have allowance?”  
“I saved up two months worth of wages.” Roger worked part-time at a bar. He saw Brian’s hesitation, “Oh, come on, Bri, it won’t be too bad. We’ll go in the evening and we’ll return before eight. I promise. Please?”  
“Ask Freddie to go with you.”  
Roger tossed his backpack ten feet across the hallway. “Freddie? Dear God, that kid’s dead. He’s been struck right through the heart by a cupid’s arrow!”  
“What?” Brian frowned.  
“Haven’t you seen him? He’s in love!” said Roger, “He’s got that in-love face on him all the time, every second and every minute, since yesterday!”  
Brian narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re joking.”  
“Thou art a fool. How can I be joking, given that when we talk to him, he’s always lost in his own fantasies, bathing in the warm sunlight of love, that he can’t focus on anything except love—”  
“Roger, since when have you became so poetic?” Brian attempted to change the subject.  
Roger laughed. “Believe me. Freddie’s in love. Any man with an eye can see it. I can’t wait to see who his boyfriend is, though—”  
“Boyfriend?”  
“Brian, you’ve got a horrible memory. He’s gay, remember? He fussed over it for a week. I’m just afraid that once they get together, he’ll forget us,” Roger sighed and continued, “Oh, Freddie! You lover! You devoted, passionate lover! Look, he’s taken flight with those cupid wings of his. Come back to us, I pray thee!”  
“If he hears you, he’s going to get mad.”  
“No, he can’t hear when his ears are deafened by a love song.”  
“Roger Taylor! Would you please take into consideration that this is my cousin you are talking about,” Brian exclaimed with a dangerous degree of exasperation.  
Roger was doubled over with laughter. “I won’t stop until you agree to come to the bar with me tonight.”  
And of course, when Roger wanted something done, something was usually done. But as Brian walked out of the school gates with a satisfied Roger, he still wondered that if Roger was right, that if his cousin was actually in love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge warnings apply....

“Roger, let’s hurry,” Brian said, tugging at his friend’s sleeve as the two of them walked down the run-down alleyway in the evening, returning from the bar, “It’s burning hot, and the Socs are around.”  
A half-drunk Roger laughed. “Ha! You think those Socs would frighten me?”  
“I don’t want to get into a brawl, Roger.”  
“That’s because you suck at fighting.”  
Brian’s face flushed red—Roger couldn’t tell if it was due to embarrassment or anger or both. “I’m just as willing as you are to beat one of them up,” he snapped, running a hand through his unruly brown curls, “But I don’t want to get into trouble. Not yet.”  
“Say,” said Roger, “here comes Prenter!”  
Brian looked up, wiping sweat from his forehead. Indeed, there was Paul. This time, he turned up alone—without anyone.   
“Good morning,” he said darkly, and in an overly-polite way, “A word with one of you, if you please.”  
“A word, only? Why not make it a word and a punch?” Roger said.  
Paul shot him a glare. “I’d most certainly do so, if I am moved to,” he snarled.   
Both Brian and Roger had to hold back a snicker. Paul was no match for Roger. Everyone knew that.  
“I dare you do so without being moved to,” said Roger.  
Paul decided to stop rambling and get straight to the point. “Do you happen to know where Freddie Mercury is?”  
This was the last question they expected to come out of that arrogant Soc’s mouth. Brian and Roger exchanged a worried glance. You could literally smell the trouble in the air.  
“What business do you have with my cousin?” Brian spoke after a prolonged period of silence.   
Paul looked him straight in the eye. “Some… private things. Now, do you know where he is?”  
Before Brian could say anything, he was interrupted by Freddie’s voice. “He’s here. What do you want, Paul?”   
Paul immediately turned to face Freddie. “Mercury,” he hissed, “You—you villain.”  
Freddie frowned in bewilderment. “Paul,” he said calmly, “I don’t want to fight and cause a commotion. I’m no villain. If you’ve got no better things to say, then go away.”  
“You, not a villain?” Paul sneered, “Tell me, what were you doing with my cousin yesterday, at school?”  
“You mean John Deacon? I merely spoke with him.”  
Paul raised an eyebrow. “Was that it?”  
“Pretty much.”  
“Can you swear that was all you did?”  
Freddie glared at Paul. “Exactly what do you want me to say, Prenter?”  
Paul laughed. “I saw you and him yesterday, Freddie Mercury. I saw it with my very own eyes. And no, I wasn’t drunk or anything. I could swear that you—you kissed him.”  
Brian widened his eyes in shock. “No way. You must’ve been hallucinating, Prenter.”  
Roger, who was half-drunk up until now, also shook his head in disbelief. He knew that Freddie might be in love all along, but he never expected his lover to be… John Deacon.  
“Am I right, Mercury?” said Paul. When Freddie did not reply and instead looked away, his lips curled into a sneer. “I’m quite impressed, Mercury. John is not a easy person to win over. But you do realize that what you’ve done is wrong from every aspect. Not only is it… gay, which is disgusting enough—”  
“Paul Prenter!” Roger barked, “You’re not—”  
“—but my cousin already has a partner,” Paul continued, “A sweet girl that he loves with all his heart. And I would not allow his relationship to be ruined by a faggot—”  
Before Paul could finish his sentence, Roger had his hand on his collar and he jerked him forwards so that their noses were almost touching. “What did you just call him?!” he yelled, his fists shaking with anger. Paul spat in his face, and the next second, he had been hit right in the nose.  
“Roger—” Freddie began, alarmed, but stopped when Roger threw another punch at Paul, cracking his front tooth.   
Paul wiped away the blood on his lips. “You’re lucky you’ve got a friend to lean on, Mercury,” he growled, “But only for now. As soon as they see who you really are, they’ll leave you. And then I’ll make you pay, you fag—”  
THUMP. A third punch landed on Paul’s shoulder. Roger charged forwards, fuming and hissing. Paul backed up, but he backed into a wall, so he decided to stand his spot and fight.   
Both Brian and Freddie were stupefied for a moment, rooted to the ground and at loss of what to do. It wasn’t until Roger and Paul had exchanged a few more punches and kicks when Freddie finally broke from his daze and ran towards them. “Guys, stop! Stop! We’ll get into trouble! Brian, help me separate them!”  
But before he could reach them and pull them apart, Roger had shoved Paul into the wall and was beating him up like a dog. Yet the next thing he knew was that Paul had yanked out his pocket knife and jabbed it at Roger.   
Freddie almost screamed out as Paul thrusted the knife into the middle of Roger’s chest. There was that nauseating sound of iron penetrating the skin and piercing the flesh. Dead silence followed, with every person present just standing there in shock. Roger had his hands on Paul’s outstretched arm, and he opened his mouth as if to cry out in pain, but no sound came out.  
Paul pulled out after a good ten seconds or so, and Freddie could see his eyes widen in terror as he watched Roger crumble to the ground.  
Then, he turned and fled. Freddie was about to chase after him, but he quickly realized that there were more important things to take care of at the moment.   
He knelt down and held his wounded friend, just as Brian rushed over. “Roger,” he said, shaking him, “Roger, stay with me,” while Brian fumbled in his pocket for his phone.  
Roger once again tried to talk. “Freddie—” he choked, “Oh good God, this hurts.”  
“Breath, Roger, keep breathing,” Freddie couldn’t stop his voice from trembling. Brian grabbed his hand as well. “It’s okay, Roger. The ambulance is coming. You’ll be fine.”  
“It’s not too deep,” Roger managed to squeeze out between his short breathes, “Not too wide either—but it’s enough.” He coughed out some blood. “Oh—curse this!”   
“Roger, listen to me, Roger,” Brian was on the verge of tears, “You’ll live, you’ll live. Trust me.”  
Roger grabbed Freddie’s arm and leaned on him for support. “No, no, this is it. I’m done for,” he sputtered, “I can’t—Argh! Bloody put me down, or I’m going to faint. Come on, please!”  
And it was just like that. He was gone. Freddie felt it—his body went limp and his hand that clung to his shoulder fell. He watched his blonde-haired friend breathe out, only to never breathe in again.  
He didn’t know if he could take it anymore. With a loud cry of despair, he took off into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, probably not what you were expecting. I’m sorry. Tell me what you think in the comments! Thx. X.


	7. Chapter 7

Freddie raced down the blackened streets and alleyways. His legs were tired and he was out of breath, but he kept running, not daring to look back.   
Roger Taylor was dead. Dead defending him from Paul’s slanders. He could still see Roger’s empty, wide eyes staring at him without seeing him. It haunted him, blinded him, and he felt that excruciating pain in his chest.   
Part of him grieved. Part of him wanted revenge.   
At first, he didn’t really want to hurt Paul because of John. He knew well enough that Paul was John’s cousin. But now, nothing could stop him.   
As he neared the bridge that hung like a shadow over the river, he saw Paul’s figure. Anger bubbled up inside him as he caught up with Paul and shoved him to the ground.  
Paul was sort of expecting this all the way long. He knew that he had killed Freddie’s dearest friend, and Freddie wasn’t just going to let it go. But as he looked into Freddie’s furious eyes, he still felt a shiver being sent down his spine. Those eyes, filled with pure, unadulterated hatred.   
“Freddie, Freddie,” Brian was right behind him. He held him back as Freddie was about to throw another punch at Paul. “Calm down. We can sort this out some other way—”  
“What other way is there?!” Freddie howled, his tear-streaked face contorted with rage and misery, “He killed Roger, he killed him! Then he’ll keep him company!” He writhed out of Brian’s grasp and leapt at Paul, who dodged just in time to avoid a strike that would have broken his nose.  
Brian could only watch in horror as Freddie beat up a terrified Paul ruthlessly. Normally, they should be about equal in their fighting skills. But now, it seemed as if Paul was completely paralyzed, deprived of the ability to even move. It took a long time for him to even react. Between punches, he climbed up and fought back, but was almost immediately knocked down again.   
In fact, he had no intentions to stop Freddie beating up Paul. He himself was mad with grief. Roger was his best friend.. He’d known him for so many years—talking with him, playing with him, laughing with him. And suddenly, it was all gone in a flash, because of Paul. He was able to maintain a calm appearance throughout—well, he’s Brian May—but there was a hurricane going on inside him. A hurricane that smashed his veins and tore his organs. All that he could feel was sheer agony. And he wasn’t sure if he could ever walk out of the eye of the storm.   
Now, if you’ve lived as long as I have (which it, to be honest, not very long), you might have learned a life lesson—that is, never drive someone to desperation. That’s what Roger did to Paul. And under desperation, Paul drew his knife and stabbed him.  
And Freddie—he made the same mistake.  
Which, of course, resulted in another tragedy (or probably not entirely a tragedy, depends on who you are and what you think. But to you, the reader, you would probably think it’s not a tragedy at present. Yet you need to remember, every action has its equal, opposite reaction, and that this law does not only exist in the world of physics. Alright, enough rambling. On with the show).

John awoke the next morning to the most horrible news he had ever received in the course of his life up until now.  
His cousin, Paul, was dead.   
More specifically, brutally stabbed in the throat with a pocket knife, on the other side of the bridge. It seemed like he had gotten into a fight before, because there were bruises all over his arms and legs, and he had a black eye too.   
There was no answer as to who did this. The peculiar thing, was, however, not far from here was another corpse that belonged to a Greaser boy named Roger Taylor. It was said that someone called the ambulance when the Greaser was dying. They got there too late—Taylor was already dead, being knifed squarely in the chest. There wasn’t anyone around him, either. They were still trying to find out who it was that called, when they discovered Paul, dead on the bridge.   
He felt completely dead as he stood there, watching the police move the dead body of his beloved cousin.   
Could the heavens be so cruel?   
He’d already cried his tears dry, and his mind was a complete mess.  
“John,” a voice said behind him.  
He immediately recognized the voice and spun around.   
“Freddie.”  
The presence of his lover cheered him up a little, but it still could not help his woe.  
Freddie looked completely disheveled. His hair was a mess, his eyes were swollen, and there was a light bruise on his cheek. He grabbed his hand.  
“I—I need to tell you something,” said he, “Come, let’s go somewhere private.”  
He pulled John down into an alleyway where no one dwelled.  
“So? What do you need to tell me?” John was the first to speak.  
Freddie clenched his jaws. He didn’t know how to say this. “You’re going to hate me for this.”  
“Where did that come from? I will never hate you, Freddie.”  
“That’s what you think now,” said Freddie.  
John rolled his eyes. “Just put me out of my misery already. What were you going to say?”  
Freddie took a deep breath and looked straight into John’s hazel eyes. “John,” he said, pronouncing every word clearly, “I killed Paul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk where I’m going with this. We’ll see. Tell me what you think in the comments! Thx. X.


	8. Chapter 8

It took John eternity to fully understand what he said. When those dreadful words finally sunk into his brain, he widened his eyes and took a step backwards. “What? What did you say?”  
“I. Killed. Paul,” Freddie repeated.  
John shook his head. “No, no way. I don’t believe it. Please tell me this isn’t true.”  
Freddie felt tears swimming in his eyes. “John. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”   
John felt like the sky just crumbled down on top of him. Must he be forced to hate his lover?   
“Why?” he finally found the courage to ask.  
He saw an grief and hate flash through Freddie’s eyes. “Because… he… he killed my best friend.”  
“What?!” John grabbed onto Freddie’s shoulders. “He—Paul, he killed… ?”  
“Yes. That other corpse that lie dead in the alleyway is my friend, Roger Taylor, slain by Paul.” Freddie could no longer hold back his sobs. He hated to look weak in front of John at this time. Why should he be crying like a child when he was the one who killed Paul? It should be John who was in hysterics. He, on the other hand, should learn to pay the price.  
“That’s impossible,” John breathed. “Paul—he would never kill anyone.” This wasn’t the Paul he knew.   
“He—he got into a fight with Roger,” Freddie choked out a reply, “Well, he does that all—all the time. We—we fight a lot. But this time, he—he—he found out about us, John. He was mad. He insulted me and Roger—he—”  
John closed his eyes and opened them again. “That can’t be,” he murmured, “Paul—I never knew that. I always thought—” he broke off, entirely speechless.  
And this was what Paul was always afraid of. The illusion breaking. John knowing that Paul wasn’t always the caring older cousin he seemed to be.  
“Freddie,” said John finally, “I understand if you wanted to kill him because he killed your best friend—but I just want you to know, Paul—he isn’t always like that.”  
Freddie looked up at him with red, puffy eyes. He noticed that John was crying too.   
“To me… he’s this sweet and caring cousin who’s always with me when I need him….” John’s voice trembled like a broken flute, “My parents died when I was ten, and—and he was the one who brought me up all along… ” He couldn’t continue.  
That was just another dagger stabbed into Freddie’s heart. The stab was sharp and deep and precise, so that he collapsed to a kneeling position on the ground.   
He remembered that moment when a desperate Paul pulled out his knife again to defend himself. He caught on to Paul’s wrist and twisted his hand backwards and thrusted the knife back into his throat.  
He remembered seeing the blood on his knuckles and collapsing in horror when he realized what he had done.   
Then Brian was there. Putting an arm around him, leaning into his ear, telling him that he had to run.   
But he couldn’t. Because of John.   
Brian saw that. He rubbed his back, telling him that everything was going to be okay. And then, when he looked up, he saw determination in Brian’s eyes like he’d never seen before.  
John watched his lover sob like a three-year-old in front of him. He didn’t know what he felt of him at that moment in time, whether if it was still love, or hatred, or pity.   
He had taken a piece of his heart, a piece of his soul, and torn it apart (yes, line reference here).   
Without another word, he turned and left, because this was the best he could do at the present. He didn’t want to show any weakness in front of Freddie. It would be best if he hid and cry alone.

Meanwhile, Brian was walking down the street with a hood on. It was June, but he was freezing.  
He shivered as the images of yesterday flashed through his brain. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t.   
He’d lost Roger completely. He knew he will lose Freddie soon too. Freddie loved John—he could see it in his eyes after he killed Paul. Just for the sake of repaying his lover, his cousin would surely turn himself in to the authorities, or just kill himself.  
Therefore, he had to take action first.  
Brian had left a note in Freddie’s room. There was another note that he mailed to the police station. He hoped that this would keep his cousin alive and well in this world.  
It was beginning to drizzle, which was quite rare in June. This just made Brian feel worse. He was already “cold” to begin with, and with the rainwater slipping down his jacket and his face, he felt as if his body had just turned to ice.  
As he neared the bridge (which was already cleared by now), he stared down at the ground and walked as quickly as he could until he bumped into someone.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, and started again, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.  
“Are you Freddie’s cousin?”  
He spun around to see a teenage boy with brown, wavy hair, whom he recognized after a few seconds.  
“John?”   
The boy nodded. His eyes were filled with anguish, sadness that made Brian realize in horror— “Freddie told you.”  
“Yes.”  
He mentally slapped himself for not stealing the keys yesterday and locking Freddie inside. “Please, don’t tell anyone,” he couldn’t let this foil his plan, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”  
John cut him off. “I won’t,” said he, “No one will know.”  
Brian let out a breath he was holding. “Thank you. But why?”  
“Because I love him. I know it’s wrong, but I still love him,” said John, “Maybe we can’t continue this relationship anymore, but I won’t put him to doom.”  
Brian was speechless for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. So this was love?  
“John… Freddie loves you too.”  
John looked up at him.  
“That’s why he told you the truth. He’s not trying to break your heart. On the contrary, he’s doing it for you. He doesn’t want you to live in a lie. He—he’s telling you so you could be free. Free from the wrong choices you’d make if you live under that lie,” he paused for a second and continued, “Freddie’s a good person. I grew up with him. I know. After he killed Paul, he’s overwhelmed with guilt. Please, if you love him, keep him alive. No matter what happens.”  
The east wind was rising, and the rain was getting heavier. It seemed as if a storm was coming.  
“Goodbye.”  
Brian swept past the younger boy, stepping onto the bridge. He leaned over the railing, looking down at the dark waters that flowed below. Glancing behind him, he could see that John was still standing there, watching him from not far away.   
His eyes met John’s. The rainwater blurred his vision, but he could make out John’s features upon his face. A sad smile spread at his lips as he agilely slipped over the railing and let himself fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol idk what happened, but yeah, here we go again. Tell me what you think in the comments! Thx. X.


End file.
